My daughter, the Queen
by ChibiUsa20
Summary: Anne believes she is carrying the long awaited Tudor son... how does she feel when she gives birth to a baby girl? OneShot


I do not own the Tudors!  
This is just something I came up with. Not particularly from an episode. Hope you enjoy!

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_**6**__**th**__** September 1533  
Greenwich **_

"Anne! Anne, wake up!"

At the sound of her name, Anne Boleyn fluttered her eyes open. She had been in a restless sleep and couldn't quite remember where she was. Suddenly, she felt a kick in her stomach which brought her back to reality. She struggled to sit up in bed, while smoothing her hand over her swollen belly. She used the other to wipe her eyes and get a look at whoever had called her name.

It was her older sister, Mary. She often checked in on Anne, considering her present condition.

"What is it, Mary? I need my rest. It's not easy carrying this strong child, you know," Anne huffed, while folding her hands on top of her stomach.

Mary Boleyn quickly rolled her eyes, hoping Anne didn't notice. Her younger sister may be Queen of England and pregnant with King Henry VIII's heir, but in Mary's mind, Anne had no right to have such airs about herself. Their whole family had worked hard to get Anne to the current position she was in. Besides, Mary had two babies of her own. She knew every little thing that Anne was going through and experiencing. Mary picked up a small pillow that had fallen off the bed and placed it behind Anne's back for support.

"You were tossing and groaning in your sleep again," Mary explained, even though Anne hated to be woken up during her afternoon nap. "You know it's not good for the child."

Anne nodded in response, her attention turned to the nearest window. She often gazed out at the sky, longing for the feeling of sunshine on her face once more. She hadn't been confined to her bed for more than two weeks, but being outdoors was one of her favourite things to do.

"I wonder if Father will be visiting today," Mary spoke quietly, while straightening Anne's linens and fluffing her pillows. Anne made no response, as her eyes were still focused on the window.

Suddenly, a loud knock came from the other side of the chamber door. Mary quickly made her way over and turned the latch to let the visitor in. A man peered inside. It was their father, Sir Thomas Boleyn.

"Mary, I'd like a quick word with your sister," he whispered, looking over at his youngest daughter, who was still not paying attention. Mary nodded and let their father into the chamber. She silently left the room. Thomas strolled over to Anne, who finally turned her eyes from the window to the new arrival in her bedchamber.

"Father," she merely spoke. She had figured that he would come for a visit, as she was close to the birth of her child. The long awaited son that the whole family had been praying for.

"Anne, your majesty," he said, bowing his head and surveying his daughter. "How are you feeling?"

Anne was aware that he was asking about the child and her pains.

"I have no pains yet, Father. The child is not due for at least two weeks."

Although Thomas was aware of this, he had still decided to check in on his youngest child. They were very sure, at least from Anne's constant certainty, that the babe she was carrying would be a male. This would ensure the Tudor and Boleyn line would live on. Henry had waited long enough for the birth of a healthy, legitimate son and Thomas was hopeful that his Anne would be the woman to give him what he wanted. He watched as Anne rubbed her swollen stomach.

"He is kicking again. He has been very lively these past few days."

Thomas smiled for a moment at the thought of his tiny grandson already being a handful to his mother, but his smile soon faded.

"Anne, how certain are you that this child will be male?" He had asked her this question frequently, as it was an important factor in the rise and continuation of their family name. Anne could only roll her eyes at the question. She had heard it enough.

"You know that if this child is not a boy, we may lose the King."

Anne's head snapped up and she looked directly into her father's eyes.

"The King loves me! He would still love me even if this child were a girl! I know it is a boy, father! He is strong just like his majesty!" Anne gazed angrily at her father for speaking such words. Henry would never leave her, even if this child were a girl, they would continue having children. Besides, one healthy child – male or female – would not be enough to carry on the family name and throne, as so many children died in infancy, even royal children. Anne felt the kick of her unborn son against her hand, as if he were saying, _all is well, and I am coming._

Anne smiled to herself at the thought of her son. She would prove to her family that she could produce a male child and please his majesty. At least, she hoped so.

"You know what it will mean if the child is female, Anne," Thomas continued, not paying attention to his daughter's small outburst. "It is already going to be difficult getting the King back into your bed after producing a child. You do realize that he has more than likely sought another woman for pleasure while you lie here carrying his unborn heir."

Anne could feel her anger rising, but she ignored it. She had already assumed this to be true, as when Katherine was becoming less and less to the King's liking a few years ago, it was Anne that the King sought to have. Now she was in the same relative position as Katherine – only her first child by the King would be male, unlike her bastard daughter, Mary. Anne suddenly felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. She rolled onto her left side, as the pressure seemed to be lighter.

"Father, you may leave now. I am going to rest," Anne ordered, pointing towards the door. "Please tell Mary not to disturb me."

Thomas reluctantly nodded, still wanting to converse with his daughter about the matter, but knew the child was most likely causing her distress. He placed a small kiss on his daughter's forehead before leaving. As he closed the door, Anne drifted off to sleep.

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_**7**__**th**__** September 1533**_

Anne awoke the following day after another nap, feeling a little strange, but thought nothing of it. Having a child was definitely a new experience for her and everyday brought new emotions and challenges. She felt the babe stirring, telling her that he was awake and alert as well.

"It's alright, darling," Anne murmured, patting her swollen belly. As she did so, she felt a weird feeling between her legs.

"Mary! Mary! Come quickly! Something's wrong!" Anne screamed as loud as she could. Pain was slowly building in her abdomen now.

Mary came barging through the door with the mid-wife. She immediately went to Anne and stripped her of anything that was covering her lower body. She felt the linens first and noticed that they were wet. Anne's water had broken.

"Her majesties water has broken. Pressure may soon start to build. Her majesty must sit up now."

Anne could barely remember the next few hours. She must have drifted off slightly, because Mary was calling her name.

"Anne. Anne! You've got to push now! The child is coming!"

Anne could feel the pressure building in her abdomen. She screamed in pain.

"The child is crowning, your majesty! Push!" The mid-wife spoke loudly. Anne sat up slowly and concentrated on pushing. She could feel the constant sting of pain and she pushed with it. Eventually, Anne felt the pain subside and she heard a small cry.

"Anne! Oh, Anne!" Mary cried, tears glittering in her eyes, as she watched her baby sister collapse from the ordeal. Anne managed to keep her eyes open, waiting to see her son. The room was quiet as the baby was wrapped up in a warm blanket and hushed before being passed on to Mary by the midwife.

"What is it?" Anne cried softly, getting annoyed now, "What is it? Is it my son?"

Mary gulped, but handed the squirming babe over to Anne. "You have a beautiful, healthy girl."

Anne couldn't believe what she was hearing. As she looked down at the tiny child in her arms, no feelings of love arose. All she could think about was what Henry would say when he saw that all their work had produced a female child… another princess… her family would never forgive her… With all of these thoughts running through her head, Anne fainted.

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Anne awoke with the sound of crying. It was her baby daughter, Elizabeth. Henry had picked the name, in case the child she bore him was a girl. Anne had hired a wet nurse for Elizabeth prior to her birth, even though she had wanted to breast feed the child herself. However, being the Queen of England, she was not expected to do such a task.

Mary appeared in the chamber with Elizabeth in her arms. She knew how disappointed Anne must be but she wanted her to see that Elizabeth was still her child and needed to be loved just as if she were a boy. Anne almost refused to take Elizabeth, but the babe cooed lightly at the sight of her. Anne semi-reluctantly took the tiny child into her arms. Elizabeth wiggled a little, seeming to adjust herself in Anne's arms. Even at a day old, the Princess seemed to know what she wanted. Mary silently left the room, allowing mother and daughter to bond. A small smile lingered on her lips as she closed the chamber door.

Anne could only stare at her beautiful daughter. When Elizabeth had been born, the only thought Anne had was that she wasn't the boy she had wished for… she hadn't noticed how beautiful her daughter really was. Her small head was covered in a light red colour and her eyes were as blue as the skies. She was already a Tudor princess and one could tell from her looks alone.

"I'm sorry, my beautiful princess," Anne whispered. "You are not the son I thought I was carrying, but you are my little girl. A Tudor prince would belong to England… but you belong to me."

The little princess crooned. She kicked her leg high up in the air, like she would have done within Anne's womb. Anne laughed lightly.

"You thought it was amusing, didn't you? Kicking your mother? You are strong, stronger than any prince. I will do my best for you, my Elizabeth. You will be the future of this country."

Elizabeth looked up at her mother with her bright, shining eyes.

"You are my daughter and the future Queen of England."

Elizabeth cooed.

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